SHERIFF ELBERT looked up from the desk where he was sitting and greeted his visitor. Tick Black said, 'Mornin', Sheriff,' and eased himself into a chair.
'What can I do for you?' Elbert asked. He was thinking that no self-respecting tramp would wear the old and dirty clothes of this financially responsible ranchman.
'You can arrest Hal Stevens for the murder of Cad Hanford,' Black answered, his thin voice high and shrill.
The sheriff lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair. 'I had a talk with Hal the other day,' he said between the first few puffs. 'His story is that he was attacked by Hanford and some others. If that is true, he can claim self- defense.'
'He has to claim that to save his bacon. Fact is, Dud Calloway tried to arrest him for holding up some of the boys with a gun and robbing them. When he resisted, Dud deputized Cad and the others to take him. That was when he killed Cad. One of the most damnable murders I ever heard of.'
Elbert declined to get excited. He was a large well-fleshed man past fifty. In memory of his days as a cattleman he wore a big white Stetson, corduroy trousers and coat, and cowboy boots. His face was tanned and the back of his neck crisscrossed with deep wrinkles.
'I talked with several witnesses,' he mentioned casually. 'Among others Miss Lovell and Miss Barnes. They didn't look at this the same way you do, Tick. In fact, they agreed that if the Seven Up boys hadn't arrived in time, Stevens and young Frank Lovell would have been rubbed out.'
'Miss Lovell has to stand by her brother when the young fool gets in a jam, doesn't she? Count her out as a witness.'
The sheriff inspected the growing ash at the end of his cigar. 'I'm not satisfied with the way Dud behaved,' he said. 'He acted like a partisan. Cash Polk and his friends used him as a cover for the killing they meant to pull off. Dud did not admit that in so many words, but everything he said pointed to it. I'll say this for Dud. He didn't know how far they meant to go. His idea was they would stop with an arrest. But that wasn't their idea.'
'You've decided to tie in with the big ranches. That the long and the short of it, Elbert?'
The sheriff flushed with anger. 'I've decided to stand with honest men against rustlers and killers. But I didn't come to that decision this week or this year, as you damned well know. I would like to make some arrests in this case, but when I went into the hills looking for Cash Polk and Jim Frawley and that boy Fenwick, I couldn't find hide nor hair of them.'
'I expect they didn't know you wanted them.' Tick looked virtuously indignant. 'No reason for them to hide. They have done nothing wrong. But it's the old story. The law leans over backward to help rich folks against the poor.'
'You have money enough to burn a wet mule, Tick,' Elbert said tartly. 'But if I can show you are tied up with this gang of thieves and killers, you'll find out whether I go after the rich.'
Black leaned forward, his flinty eyes drained of expression. 'Don't make that claim, Carl, unless you can prove it,' he warned.
'When I can prove it, I won't talk but act,' the sheriff answered. 'You have come here to hurrah me, Tick. I thought you had better judgment than to try it.' He rose from his chair. 'You have your answer. If that is all the business you have with me, get out.'
'Sure I'll get out. When you ran for sheriff, you got a lot of votes from the hill country. I'll guarantee you won't get so many if you run again.'
'That will be fine,' Elbert replied. 'I don't want the votes of crooks. You might tell your friends that in my opinion when next election comes around, some of them won't be voting.'
As he went out, Black slammed the door hard behind him. He had come to find out just where the sheriff stood, though he already had a pretty fair idea. He knew Elbert could not have any sympathy with rustlers. All his background would prevent that. But he had not been sure whether he would have to count on him as an active enemy. It might be important to know. The sheriff had made his position clear.
Black got into his old rattletrap car and drove out of town. He left the paved road after a few miles, to take a dirt cross-cut to Big Bridge. Yellow dust rose behind him in thick clouds, churned to a fine powder by the wheels of the cars passing since the last rain of a month before. It hung in the air for many minutes after the automobile had stirred it up.
The hill cattleman wanted to see Brick Fenwick, and he knew the young man would probably be found at Big Bridge. Of late he had been given to hanging around the Barnes restaurant. Black had a feeling that it would be well to move fast against Hal Stevens. With the M K man out of the picture, he would feel a great deal safer. Stevens not only knew and guessed too much. He meant to know a great deal more. The man was dangerous. He had not only a sharp fighting edge, but with it the wisdom to gauge and meet the dangers facing him. Within a few hours of the time that the body of the Government man Watts had been found, Stevens had been quartering over the ground gathering evidence to prove murder and not accident. His wily boldness had detached Frank Lovell from the side of the outlaws and made the boy a menace. As long as he was alive, there would be no safety for Black and his men.
HELEN BARNES was alone in her restaurant checking up the receipts and expenditures of the day. Manuel and the colored cook had gone home. She looked up from adding a column of figures, aware that the door she had purposely left unlocked had opened very softly and been closed again. On her lips was a welcoming smile, but it died away quickly. This was not the man she had been expecting.
Brick Fenwick stood with his back to the door, no motion in his neat lithe body, so insolently sure of himself that it sent a shiver through her. She must get him away from here before the other man arrived. But how? To the rebuffs she had given him during the past week, he paid not the least attention. Her anger he found amusing. Her contempt did not reach him.
'The restaurant is closed,' she told him. 'What do you want here?'
'You know what I want,' he said in a low purring voice. 'I want you.'
He moved forward with catlike grace to the raised cashier's desk behind which she sat.
Her blue eyes blazed. A pulse of anger beat in her throat. 'Can't you understand English,' she said. 'I've told you a dozen times that I think you evil — that I despise you — want nothing to do with you.'
He ignored what she had said. 'I like you angry,' he re plied, with cool impudence. 'A woman with no ginger wouldn't interest me, any more than a horse without spirit. I want one I have to curb.'
Her glance swept to the door. At any moment it might open to admit the other man. 'It makes no difference to me what you want. Please leave this room. At once.'
He shook his head, laughing at her. 'You women must always be actresses. A man must make allowances and not believe everything one says. I regret to refuse, but I think I'll stay.' He bowed, with a tag of bronco Spanish,'
'If you have something to say to me, I'll see you some other time.'
'Now,' he corrected. 'Sheriff Elbert is on my tail. I can't drop in any minute.'
'It would make me happy to know I would never see you again,' she said, eyes full on him.
'But I don't believe that. A woman's no means yes.'
Her hand moved in a little gesture of futility. 'Your vanity is so colossal you can't understand a woman finding you repellent.'
'What has yore friend Hal Stevens got that I haven't?' he inquired gently, his sharp eyes searching for information.
'Mr. Stevens doesn't come into this. But since you ask — he has integrity, decency, a respect for the rights of others.'
'Words,' he summed up contemptuously. 'Just words. Men all want the same things — women and money.
